


Magic Touch

by assassin_trifecta



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, HR needs more love and so do I so guess what folks here have this, Metahuman Reader, Telekinetic Reader, earth two reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: You'd been working with Team Flash for a while now, but since Barry had started training two new speedsters you hadn't been needed in the field until now. Your skills are a little rusty, you make a mistake, and you're left paying for it. HR decides to lend a helping hand and really, who are you to refuse?





	

With your ears muffled by the headphones that Cisco had designed for you, you couldn’t hear anyone approach. The padding surrounding your ears made it difficult to hear but they served a greater purpose than just shutting out the sound around you. They’d been designed to help muffle your powers. You could control your metahuman telekinetic abilities now that it had been years with your abilities, but sometimes when you didn’t pay attention things still rose around you, floated up off of the ground or phased into it. Your emotions couldn’t get ahead of you and send expensive equipment (or people) across the room.

                You had a smaller pair of the headphones for the field or when you were out in public, less dampening but still effective. A pair of ear buds that had been modified from the anti-Grodd tech that the team had made the year before. They were uncomfortable though, and not meant for long term use. The older pair that you wore now, while a prototype, were more comfortable despite the fact that they were bulky and kept you from hearing things.

                Things like the other occupant of STAR Labs’ basement approaching your room and knocking at the arch of the doorway.

                You only saw HR standing there when you were half stripped out of your hero costume. Thankfully you wore a tank top under the suit so you weren’t caught indecent, but you still gasped and reflectively pulled the leather jacket back over your shoulders.

                “Wait!” HR spoke loud enough for you to hear, which meant he was probably yelling and just maybe the others upstairs could hear him too. “Hold on I’m sorry-“ he turned his back to you, his eyes shutting tight. It was even harder for you to hear him when his voice was pointed the other way, but he kept going. “I came to see if you needed anything after the fight!”

                Cooling off after being thoroughly spooked by his arrival, you puled the headphones carefully from your head. HR was a good man, you knew he hadn’t been peeping on your purposefully. He had been a strange addition after the gruff nature of the Harrison Wells from your earth, but you were glad he was there, even if no one else was. Having someone so gentle on the team was refreshing.

                “It’s okay, HR, I’m decent,” you laughed, pulling the jacket off again. You were covered, at least. You turned to the table that you set your gear out on, taking your gloves off and setting down the jacket now that you could hear better while turned away from him, you added: “What’s up?”

                “I just thought that since you took one heck of an – oh! Y/N!” HR’s gasp caught your attention and you turned to face him, frowning when you saw his pained expression. The panic he set off made you a little nervous, and your gloves rattled on the table behind you, threatening to lift off into the air. You raised an eyebrow at the novelist but he said nothing more, only darting to your side, his fingers fluttering nervously around you.

                “Y/N,” HR said, softer than you had ever heard him speak before. His hands reached out for you, and you managed not to flinch when they danced over your shoulder. “You’re hurt.”

                You frowned again, looking back as best as you could at where his fingers touched your skin. Spanning across your back was a large, purpling blood bruise, bringing back vague memories from a fight not two hours ago when a sign post came flying at you and caught your shoulder just before Barry Allen could zip in and move you out of the way.

                “Oh,” you muttered, the pain catching up to you with the memory of it. You tried to roll your shoulder to assess the damage but had to stop when the ache pulsed across your back and radiated through your entire body. You shivered with the pain and your gloves stopped rattling on the table and you balled your hand into a fist against the pain. “Ow.”

                You could see the worry spread across HR’s face like the pain spread across your back and you tried to smile at him in an effort to dispel it, but he wasn’t having any of it. HR was more of a caretaker than that, and he huffed at you, taking you gently by the arm and guiding you to the edge of your bed. You still wore your suit pants and boots, muddy from the fight in Central City Park and the creak of leather would have been amusing if you hadn’t wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible once you got home. You offered HR a smile, exasperated though it was.

                “I just want to get to bed, HR, it’s really no big deal, I’ve had worse.” That was a lie, and you knew it. HR hadn’t seen you out in the field before. He was new to the team and you hadn’t really been given the opportunity to work alongside the Flash in a while, now that Barry was training Wally (and Jesse) on top of hero work. You normally weren’t so careless. You normally had a shield, a barrier of telekinetic energy surrounding you that kept you from being badly damaged. Your slip up tonight looked like it was costing you your privacy, but with HR?

                You didn’t really mind. He was sweet, much more so than any other Harrison Wells you had met – though your experience was severely limited to the Harrison Wells of Earth-2, who had been pleasant enough to work with but a pain in your ass when it came to personal matters. HR was good, a ray of sunshine that you hadn’t expected you’d get when you stayed on this Earth instead of going back with Harry and his daughter to your own.

                You would have been lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t even at least mildly attracted to him.

                “Y/N, you have to – just – sit there,” He nodded his head, turning back to the door and striding there confidently. You watched him pause in the archway and turn back to you. “Stay.” Before he was off again.

                You would have listened, too, if you weren’t so hasty to get back into comfortable clothes before something else happened to the city. You moved as quick as possible, waiting only a moment after he left to make sure that HR was truly gone before you went about getting your pajamas, struggling out of your boots and suit pants so that you could slip the flannel bottoms on. You would live with the tank top for now. Something told you that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arms out of it and into another shirt. Just changing your pants had hurt enough to leave you gasping, falling back onto the bed just in time for HR to come back in, holding something in his hand that you couldn’t quite see from your angle.

                “Hey!” He gasped, and though he sounded affronted you could see the forgiving smile on his face. “I told you not to move.”

                “I’m sorry,” You managed, laying down on your bed with your face in the pillow. Your body ached with every movement, but laying like that meant you didn’t have to move much further. “I had to get out of those pants.”

                “I get that,” HR nodded, sitting down on the bed beside you and held his hand in your field of vision. He held an ice-pack and a bottle, one that you were familiar with. Arnica gel. Barry didn’t have much use for it because his bruises were gone in minutes, depending on how bad they were. You and Cisco? Neither of you had the same privilege, but normally you at least had a shield and Cisco had his quick reactions and portals. “So I got you this.”

                You smiled, your cheeks flushing just a little bit at the gesture. Being a part of the team, you’d come to expect little gestures like that but this had a personal touch that you hadn’t considered before.

                “Thank you, HR,” you moved to sit up and take the tube from him but HR was faster than your bruised body could ever dream of being. He placed his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down gently into the mattress of the cot, tutting as he did so.

                “I don’t think so, Y/N.” He objected, and you could just barely see him shake his head. “You’re not going to be able to cover the span of the bruise, you can barely move yourself, let alone lift your arms to do it. Come on,” he tugged at the end of your tank top in question and your entire body lit up warm with a flush when you realized what he was asking. “Let me help.”

                Panic passed through you for a moment. You were skipping a number of steps here, jumping straight to taking your shirt off in front of the man that you had harbored a crush for since he stepped through the interdimensional breach. But you knew that your back was in no state for you to be lifting your arms over your head and you were already laying down and the most logical course of action was for HR to take your shirt off _for_ you, and you were positive you knew why your heart started racing at the thought.

                “Yeah,” you whispered, nodding your head in assent. “I do. I, um… I need your help, HR.”

                There was a moment’s pause before he was moving again, wordlessly, his fingers – and you’d always admired Harrison Wells’ fingers, no matter what Earth they came from – dancing along the hem of your shirt once more before he lifted it up, gently and slowly. You shivered when the cold air of the converted storage room hit the heated bruise on your back, distracted by the sensation only when HR’s breath caught in an audible intake.

                “Y/N,” He breathed your name and the frantic beating of your heart stuttered. “Your back…” Those fingers, again, traced a pattern along your skin and from the tingle, the slightly uncomfortable pressure they caused, you could tell he was outlining the bruise that was already formed. From the way it felt, it extended across most of your back and you wondered only briefly what would have happened if Barry hadn’t gotten you out of there when he did. “Don’t worry,” HR continued, reaching up to set the cold pack down on the bed beside you as you pulled the tank top over your head so he’d be able access the whole of the bruise. “I’ll take care of this.”

                “Thank you, HR,” you muttered, your face buried in the pillow to save yourself from the embarrassment that would inevitably occur when he saw how much redder than your bruise your cheeks were. “You don’t have to do this.”

                There was a moment of silence as you felt HR’s fingers across the span of your back again, cool against the warm of the bruise. When he didn’t speak you started to worry, but after his voice finally hit you there was nothing you could do to hide the shiver that passed down your spine.

                “I want to,” he whispered, voice huskier than you could remember hearing it from him, more similar to Harry’s gruff tones than anything else. And when he spoke again he cleared his throat and added the humorous note that you were more familiar with despite the fact that he still sounded breathless. “After all, I can’t leave a pretty lady in pain.”

                You swallowed once, nervous for whatever was happening when HR pulled his hands away. You could hear him pop open the cap to the Arnica ointment and after a much longer period of quiet in which the only available sound was of HR warming the liquid between his hands you felt them press gently against your back. You tensed, your muscles screaming in objection to the sensation of cool ointment against them, and you hissed into the pillow, stilling HR’s movements.

                You felt his hands against your back, warm now through the gel, and couldn’t help the tiny noise of contentment from leaving you immediately after your hiss of pain. Long, expert fingers moved gently across your back after his moment of hesitation. The fingers of a writer, a musician. They weren’t calloused in the same way you knew Harry’s were and they touched you with the softness of… of a lover. You knew it was because HR didn’t want to cause you pain but at the same time, the intimacy of it had you shivering for a completely different reason than the chill. HR traced along the edges of your bruises again, rubbing carefully into the skin. Any discomfort the ministrations caused you was mitigated by the softness of his touch as he traveled further up your back, towards the spot on your shoulder that had you flinching when he made contact. Once more, he stilled, hands hovering just above your skin. Another shiver, only this time you were desperate for the contact to resume.

                “Are you okay?” HR asked, voice back down to that quiet, discerning whisper. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

                “No,” you replied, afraid to break the quiet intimacy of the moment with anything louder than a whisper. You tried to ignore how breathy you sounded, but it was hard to avoid. “No, please continue.”

                After only a moment more of hesitation HR’s hands were on your back again, kneading gently over the purple bruise. “You know,” he whispered. “You should really talk to Caitlin about this.”

                “She’s got plenty to worry about,” you muttered, burying your face into the pillow and speaking just barely loud enough for him to hear through the fabric. Cait was the last thing that you wanted to talk about while HR’s hands rubbed your back so tenderly. You knew this was just a one-time thing, a strange, unrepeatable moment. Still, you’d rather have it to yourself, unmarred by talk of your coworkers. “Speedsters take more care than I do.”

                HR laughed softly, and you felt his fingers press into the muscles of your back that were tense but not covered in bruise. You couldn’t help the noise of appreciation that bubbles from the back of your throat.

                “I think that’s objectively wrong,” HR replied, fingers faltering a moment before they continued. This was beyond personal care now, and you hummed as he pressed into the unbruised skin of your back. “Speedsters require significantly less care than someone who can’t heal at light speeds.” He was right. But there were three of them now and Cait had her hands full with broken limbs and fractures. She couldn’t be bothered with your bumps and bruises. As he spoke, HR massaged into your muscles, but you could tell he was slowing down.

                You sighed, nuzzling into the pillow. You didn’t want this to be over. Most of the time after a fight like that, everyone was focused on the speedsters. Or Cisco. You didn’t really take offense to it, after all you had protections and well, you weren’t the Flash. And you weren’t the one that could open up interdimensional breaches to travel to and from worlds. You were a team member, and they worried, but you weren’t someone’s kid, either. Barry and Wally were both Joe’s kids, which made them something to lose. Jesse’s dad was a powerhouse of a helicopter parent, and even though Cisco wasn’t… okay with his family, they were still, at least a little bit, a part of his life. You? Your family was on Earth-Two, and even then, most of them were gone. Having HR come to you at all was… a gesture that you weren’t used to receiving. A kindness that you didn’t expect.

                “You okay down there?” HR’s voice was stronger now, up where it normally was. The magic that had been there before had seeped out of it, and you felt his hands still on your back. You allowed him to reach up carefully and pull the tank top back over your skin, managing to only make a face when the fabric hit your sticky, bruised back.

                “Yeah, HR, I’m fine,” you replied, turning your head as much as you could against the pillow to offer him a smile. “Thank you. That was… that was nice.”

                “I aim to please.” He was reaching forward to grab the discarded ice pack. You followed the length of his arm, admiring the muscle that pulled taut just below the sleeve line of his t-shirt. That was another thing you enjoyed about Harrison Wells. On any Earth you had seen him thus far, he was _cut_. HR just had the additional benefit of always wearing t-shirts. You weren’t able to think about that long, however, before the cold sting of the ice-pack was seeping through your shirt. You hissed at the sensation and HR chuckled. “Relax, Y/N,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. “You’ll only feel better for it later.”

                “Yeah, well it sucks now,” you huffed, looking away from him. You didn’t want to have him think that his efforts were meaningless. You didn’t want him to think that you weren’t grateful for it. The rest of the team did that to him often enough that it left you feeling sick. When you weren’t embarrassed as bad as you had been before you lifted your head up, casting your smile at him, apologetic and grateful. “But thank you again, HR, for all your help.”  

                “Ah, don’t mention it.” HR waved it away like it was a nonissue, but you could see the sparkle in his eyes. There was something different about this. Something different than him getting coffee for everyone or talking the team through some issue they could solve on their own.

                Before you knew what was happening, HR was leaning down again, but this time he didn’t stop just to pick something up. His lips were on your cheek in a display of affection that you were _sure_ he hadn’t used on the team before you. When he pulled away, HR was smirking.

                “After all,” he said, rising from the place he’d taken at the edge of your cot. He winked at you, leaving you breathless, as he moved to the door. “It’s what I’m here for.”


End file.
